Dublin Street Quotes

Let's start the next chapter, baby. ~ Samantha Young

She's definitely a romance writer. I've primed her to be a romance writer, subjecting her to so many romantic dramas it would be a miracle if she didn't become a romance writer. ~ Samantha Young

I tutted. "That's cold, Nate."
"Hey - " He pointed his finger at me.
"I'm not a complete shit. I realized later that night that it was a stupid bloody idea and I felt awful."
"Felt awful?" Nathan harrumphed.
"You cried your eyes out." I pinched my lips together to keep from laughing. Nate scowled.
"Manly tears. Manly tears of regret."
Young, Samantha (2014-01-07). Before Jamaica Lane (On Dublin Street Book 3) (Kindle Locations 2913-2916). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. ~ Samantha Young

Our eyes collided as heat rushed up my arm. The tingling between my legs intensified, the need in my gut moaned with want. All I could see was Braden, all I could smell was Braden, and his body was so close I imagined I could almost feel all of his hard strength pressing against me. Right then I wanted nothing more than to pull him into the ladies restroom and let him screw me hard against the wall. ~ Samantha Young

I gulped inwardly. Outwardly, I tilted my head to the side with a wry grin. "You're good with the words, I'll give you that."
"I'm good with my hands. Will you let me give you that?"
Young, Samantha (2012-10-12). On Dublin Street (Kindle Locations 1917-1919). Penguin Group US. Kindle Edition. ~ Samantha Young

Come on guys," Ellie called to us from further up the sidewalk. Elodie, Clark and the kids must have already gone inside. "What's taking so long?"
"Jocelyn was just begging for sex, but I told her it was a highly inappropriate time for it," Braden answered loudly, causing passersby to chuckle at him.
Young, Samantha (2012-10-12). On Dublin Street (Kindle Locations 3707-3709). Penguin Group US. Kindle Edition. ~ Samantha Young

We're still us," I managed, blinking back tears.
"I don't want there to be any awkwardness between us."
"There won't be. I won't let there be if you won't."
"Good, Sweetheart. Good. We'll just forget about this. It didn't mean anything. ~ Samantha Young

Okay, so I want to talk about it. Dammit, how can you be so good at the whole keeping things to yourself thing? It's really hard. ~ Samantha Young

What the hell was that out there?" he fumed at me, but was still definitely turned on, his hard-on digging into me, making my own body go to war with my head."None of your business, that's what it was.""Are you fucking him?""None of your business!"He made a low, irate sound under his breath and tugged on my arms. "Considering I want to fuck you, it is my business. And considering you definitely want to be fucked by me, I think it's in your best interest to answer me."
- On Dublin Street ~ Samantha Young

He followed you into the staff room and didn't come back for twenty minutes and when he did come back, he looked like he'd been mauled by a woman who'd been locked in an empty room without a vibrator, or a man for ten years! ~ Samantha Young

You are really tall for fifteen." His eyes drifted over me, a small smile playing on his lips. "A lot of people must seem tall to you." "Are you calling me short?" "Are you saying you're not short?" I wrinkled my nose. "I'm not delusional. It's just not polite to comment on a girl's shortness. For all you know I'm really mad at the world because I'm vertically challenged."
Young, Samantha (2014-10-07). Echoes of Scotland Street: An On Dublin Street Novel (p. 5). Penguin Group US. Kindle Edition. ~ Samantha Young

Now and again, one could detect in a childless woman of a certain age the various characteristics of all the children she had never issued. Her body was haunted by the ghost of souls who hadn't lived yet. Premature ghosts. Half-ghosts. X's without Y's. Y's without X's. They applied at her womb and were denied, but, meant for her and no one else, they wouldn't go away. Like tiny ectoplasmic gophers, they hunkered in her tear ducts. They shone through her sighs. Often to her chagrin, they would soften the voice she used in the marketplace. When she spilled wine, it was their playful antics that jostled the glass. They called out her name in the bath or when she passed real children in the street. The spirit babies were everywhere her companions, and everywhere they left her lonesome - yet they no more bore her resentment than a seed resents uneaten fruit. Like pet gnats, like phosphorescence, like sighs on a string, they would follow her into eternity. ~ Tom Robbins

A street turned off at right angles, descending, and became a dirt road. On either hand the land dropped more sharply; a broad flat dotted with small cabins whose weathered roofs were on a level with the crown of the road. They were set in small grassless plots littered with broken things, bricks, planks, crockery, things of a once utilitarian value. What growth there was consisted of rank weeds and the trees were mulberries and locusts and sycamores
trees that partook also of the foul desiccation which surrounded the houses; trees whose very burgeoning seemed to be the sad and stubborn remnant of September, as if even spring had passed them by, leaving them to feed upon the rich and unmistakable smell of negroes in which they grew. ~ William Faulkner

What you do at the pulpit would be considered lunatic behaviour on the street. You can't go around terrorizing people and making them feel small and shitty and then call them evil when they destroy themselves. You will never walk down a street and feel a lightness come over you. You will never fly. ~ Miriam Toews

I had recognized her. They had tried to tear her out, but she had lived in me--deep in my heart and secret, nameless and indescribable, yet never entirely gone. She had been a face in the window of every departing train, a form seen from the back on every crowded street, always just out of my sight, always turning away. And I had known her when she came to me, though I could not say it, and though the very thought had sent my mind skidding across the ice into unconsciousness. ~ Raphael Carter

So, it's pretty crazy. Look, we're bailing out Wall Street, we're bailing out banks, we're bailing out car companies. In fact, did you know there's a special box on your tax form this year you can check if you want a portion of your taxes to actually go to running the government? ~ Jay Leno

Chic Murray once told me he fell in the street, and a woman said to him, Did you fall? He said, No, I'm tryin' to break a bar of chocolate in my back pocket. ~ Billy Connolly

Once I was coming down a street in Beverly Hills and I saw a Cadillac about a block long, and out of the side window was a wonderfully slinky mink, and an arm, and at the end of the arm a hand in a white suede glove wrinkled around the wrist, and in the hand was a bagel with a bite out of it. ~ Dorothy Parker

The type he preferred was the opposite: those skinny little tadpoles that no one bothered to turn around and look at in the street, who seemed to disappear when they took off their clothes, who made you feel sorry for them when their bones cracked at the first impact, and yet who could leave the man who bragged the most about his virility ready for the trashcan. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

If I had a vulva, I'd let you drive it like a Volvo. It's all about safety. You could probably park on the street, but you might get a ticket. ~ Jarod Kintz

My dad is dead. And as I type this, by the window, on the rainy day, I am alive, yes. I am living. But sometimes it doesn't feel like I am doing it fast enough, or hard enough, or all the way. And it is times like that when I can understand wanting a cigarette in my hand, then my mouth, then my hand again. Holding the cigarette. Tending to the cigarette. Giving the cigarette what it needs. Tapping it in the ashtray. Sucking on it.
Then flicking it in the street, like it meant nothing to me. ~ Amy Fusselman

An almost eerie quiet hung over Washington; it had been that way ever since the British left. Pennsylvania Avenue stood broad and empty, with Joe Gales's type still scattered over the 7th Street intersection. General Ross's horse still lay, legs stiff in death, outside the ruins of Robert Sewall's house. The rubble of the Capitol still smoldered quietly in the sun. ~ Walter Lord

Forget romantic fiction, a survey has found that most women would rather read a good book than go shopping, have sex, or sleep. ~ Janet Street-Porter

Just smiling at someone walking down the street can make the person's day. It's all about paying it forward. ~ Mariska Hargitay

Sunset's the best time to take a stroll down Mouffetard, the ancient Via Mons Cetardus. The buildings along it are only two or three stories high. Many are crowned with conical dovecotes. Nowhere in Paris is the connection, the obscure kinship, between houses very close to each other more perceptible to the pedestrian than in this street.

Close in age, not location. If one of them should show signs of decrepitude, if its face should sag, or it should lose a tooth, as it were, a bit of cornicing, within hours its sibling a hundred metres away, but designed according to the same plans and built by the same men, will also feel it's on its last legs.

The houses vibrate in sympathy like the chords of a viola d'amore. Like cheddite charges giving each other the signal to explode simultaneously. ~ Jacques Yonnet

The female guard in R&D explained that they had no women's street clothes, so she gave me the smallest pair of men's jeans they had, a green polo shirt, a windbreaker, and a cheap pair of fake-suede lace-up shoes with thin plastic soles. They also provided me with what she called "a gratuity": $28.30. I was ready for the outside world. ~ Piper Kerman

In until ten, not even on Mardi Gras nights. No one except the girl in the black silk dress, the thin little girl with the short, soft dark hair that fell in a curtain across her eyes. Christian always wanted to brush it away from her face, to feel it trickle through his fingers like rain. Tonight, as usual, she slipped in at nine-thirty and looked around for the friends who were never there. The wind blew the French Quarter in behind her, the night air rippling warm down Chartres Street as it slipped away toward the river, smelling of spice and fried oysters and whiskey and the dust of ancient bones stolen and violated. ~ Poppy Z. Brite

I was terrified. No matter how far I fell, something pulled me back to safety - school and its occasional fascinating gift, dopey, well-meaning men, and books, books, that's where I found her most often, in the intimacies of characters, Ruth and Sylvie in a towboat, Esperanza on Mango Street, Anna K., of course, right before she jumps. ~ Julie Buntin

Pirate and Osbie Feel are leaning on their roof-ledge, a magnificent sunset across and up the winding river, the imperial serpant, crowds of factories, flats, parks, smoky spires and gables, incandescent sky casting downward across the miles of deep streets and roofs cluttering and sinuous river Thames a drastic strain of burnt orange, to remind a visitor of his mortal transience here, to seal or empty all the doors and windows in sight to his eyes that look only for a bit of company, a word or two in the street before he goes up to the soap-heavy smell of the rented room and the squares of coral sunset on the floor-boards - an antique light, self-absorbed, fuel consumed in the metered winter holocaust, the more distant shapes among the threads or sheets of smoke now perfect ash ruins of themselves, nearer windows, struck a moment by the sun, not reflecting at all but containing the same destroying light, this intense fading in which there is no promise of return, light that rusts the government cars at the curbsides, varnishes the last faces hurrying past the shops in the cold as if a vast siren had finally sounded, light that makes chilled untraveled canals of many streets, and that fills with the starlings of London, converging by millions to hazy stone pedestals, to emptying squares and a great collective sleep. They flow in rings, concentric rings on the radar screens. The operators call them 'angels. ~ Thomas Pynchon

The happiest lot on earth is to be born a Scotchman. You must pay for it in many ways, as for all other advantages on earth. You have to learn the paraphrases and the shorter catechism; you generally take to drink; your youth is a time of louder war against society, of more outcry and tears and turmoil, than if you had been born, for instance, in England. But somehow life is warmer and closer; the hearth burns more redly; the lights of home shine softer on the rainy street; the very names, endeared in verse and music, cling nearer round our hearts. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

I can remember when anything further downtown New York than Canal Street was risky and the whole area still looked like a '70s cop movie location; when the original loft-owners were more dash-than-cash, artistic types. ~ Peter York

But when the door shuts on us, all that vanishes. The shell-like covering which our souls have excreted to house themselves, to make for themselves a shape distinct from others, is broken, and there is left of all these wrinkles and roughnesses a central oyster of perceptiveness, an enormous eye. How beautiful a street is in winter! ~ Virginia Woolf

I can walk down the street all day and people look at me, but they don't talk to me or stop me. ~ Scott Speedman

The gnome did indeed have a flag, but not an American one. Not even the Maine flag with the moose on it. The one the gnome was holding had a vertical blue stripe and two fat horizontal stripes, the top one white and the bottom one red. It also had a single star. I gave the gnome a pat on his pointy hat as I went past and mounted the front steps of Al's little house on Vining Street, thinking about an amusing song by Ray Wylie Hubbard: "Screw You, We're from Texas. ~ Stephen King

I come from a poor family, so really, the culture I know best is the street, TV, school. ~ Maiwenn

The millions of vacationers who came here every year before Katrina were mostly unaware of this poverty. French Quarter tourists were rarely exposed to the reality beneath the Disneyland Gomorrah that is projected as 'N'Awlins,' a phrasing I have never heard a local use and a place, as far as I can tell, that I have never encountered despite my years in the city. The seemingly average, white, middle-class Americans whooped it up on Bourbon Street without any thought of the third-world lives of so many of the city's citizens that existed under their noses. The husband and wife, clad in khaki shorts, feather boa, and Mardi Gras beads well out of season, beheld a child tap-dancing on the street for money and clapped along to his beat without considering the obvious fact that this was an early school-day afternoon and that the child should be learning to read, not dancing for money. Somehow they did not see their own child beneath the dancer's black visage. Nor, perhaps, did they see the crumbling buildings where the city's poor live as they traveled by cab from the French Quarter to Commander's Palace. They were on vacation and this was not their problem. ~ Billy Sothern

Captain Richard Phillips of the good ship Maersk Alabama - and Sully Sullenberger splashing down his crippled airliner in the Hudson River - broke through the poisonous smog of economic depression and Wall Street skullduggery with a reminder that pure individual heroism is a daily occurrence if we know where to look for it. ~ Tina Brown

Survival is a two-way street. Once we settle ourselves off-world, we can blow up this planet from outer space. It's the only way to be sure its stench will not follow us. Let ~ Thomas Ligotti

I'm not doing my job if people are like, "What you do is fake." And literally people on the street are confused, generally, for the first time. ~ CM Punk

The muzzle of the Luger looked like the mouth of the Second Street tunnel, but I didn't move. Not being bullet proof is an idea I had had to get used to. ~ Raymond Chandler

I looked at the rap community like street kids wanting their own brand. But now I look at that period with the rappers in the 90s as a trend of the moment. What it taught me was never to follow a trend, because trends move on. ~ Tommy Hilfiger

The way you might fear a cow sitting down in the middle of the street during rush hour, that's how I fear Canadians. ~ Maria Semple